What’s this, a rerun? How is optimism separate from hope? They both involve an emphasis on positive futures, but whereas hope involves pining for a positive outcome, toxic optimism counts on it. It seduces us into stepping, like the protagonist of Voltaire’s Candide, toward a rosy future that exists only in our own minds.
Optimism seems like such a positive idea, and indeed, many optimists seem far from miserable—particularly when they describe the glowing future that awaits them. But by neglecting the potential pitfalls, they set out on the road to misery.
Consider an example. A distant acquaintance developed a business idea that made him extremely excited. It was brilliant, it was simple, and it was obvious to him that it would work. Wanting to safeguard the plan and surround himself only with positive energy, he kept the product secret while expounding on the plans he was making. He invested all he had in the enterprise. When he finally revealed the concept—a personalized ball-cap business—those closest to him looked at one another in surprise. This was the big idea? Few thought it would fly, but he would hear none of it—besides, the investment had already been made. Sure enough, within two years he lost everything. Optimism in toxic excess is bad for business.
There are three critical features of toxic optimism that you will want to harness.
Probability Inflation. Manipulate the odds, inflating the likelihood that the desired outcome will come to pass. You want it, so assume it’s going to happen:
Hide from yourself the fact that you have stacked the deck. Make sure that it seems that you are looking at the situation clearly and without bias. Actually, of course, your desires have colored the lens. As you look ahead, you want to see only a wide, straight, yellow-brick road leading directly to the Emerald City; no disgruntled sister-witches or winged monkeys lining the route. When you tell dispassionate observers about your projections, they may shake their heads, unswayed by your enthusiasm. But since you are certain that they just don’t have your level of insight, you can ignore their cautions and overcommit to an unwise course of action.
Selective Attention. Focus all of your attention on the course you desire and ignore the courses you don’t. Toss contingency planning out the window:
Once you have mastered this skill, unpleasant possibilities may not occur to you at all. Insurance? Why would you need that?
Elevated Expectations. A third aspect of toxic optimism is that, having assumed the future will work out as anticipated, your vision can become the baseline for your emotions. Knowing that you will get the promotion, you incorporate this into the plan of your life. Should the promotion actually come your way, you will get no great lift, because you were counting on it anyway. Should the position be handed to someone else, however, then the great yawning maw of an unforgiving and incomprehensible universe will stare you in the face. Because you have already spent the anticipated raise, you will face poverty.
Most of our dreams do not come to pass. Consequently, toxic optimism will encase you in a near-constant state of disappointment—a world in which the shining future is never quite matched by the drab present. Eventually it will become more and more difficult to sustain yourself with visions of tomorrow’s sugarplums when all you seem to receive are dry and tasteless prunes.
Full disclosure: although I am quite good at many of the strategies in this book, this one is beyond my skill level. I was raised by pessimists. “You just wait” was the motto of my childhood. Every plane will crash. Every train will derail. Every automobile will run out of gas. This way of thinking became so wedged in my unconscious that I am incapable of doing without Plans B, C, and D. Left to my own devices, I would wear a lifejacket in a desert rainshower.
You too will find that some of these strategies simply do not fit with your nature. If you have chosen this book, however, perhaps it is because misery does not seem to be among your native talents. If your outlook is distressingly, perpetually sunny, then this technique, which involves indulging your natural optimism, may well prove one of your most powerful methods of summoning the storm clouds.
Is optimism always a reliable path to misery? Alas, no. There is an alternative form of optimism—perhaps better called realism—that instead tends to produce greater contentment and so must be avoided. Like so many paths to happiness, it leads along the middle path, the Goldilocks route.
Realistic optimists acknowledge the full range of potential futures, good and bad, and attempt to get a truly dispassionate sense of the likelihood of each without reference to personal desire. Knowing that their guesses are never perfect, they may consult with others who do not share their attachment to one outcome over the others. “What do you think of this new boyfriend of mine, really?”
Thus informed, they take steps to increase the likelihood of their desired outcomes while cautiously planning contingencies should the negative ones transpire instead. “Plan for the best, prepare for the worst” is their motto. Yours, by contrast, should be “Assume the best, ignore the worst.”